Page 13 of Star-crossed Betas

Cee sits up, wiping saliva and cum that's dribbling from the corners of his mouth. He smiles shyly, and I can’t help but pull him into a searing kiss at the sight of his puffy, pink lips. Tasting myself on his tongue is heady and wakes up some primal part of my brain, declaring he belongs to me now.

“Wow,” I say, completely at a loss for more eloquent words. “Take these off.” I tug on the end of Cee's shorts. He shakes his head, and a deep, crimson blush blooms across his cheekbones. “Why not? I want to taste you too.” Cee covers his face with hishands and mumbles into them. “What?” I ask again, pulling at his wrists and dragging them away from his face.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t make you say what? Oh…” It’s then I spot a slightly damp patch on his denim shorts. “Damn, that’s actually a lot hotter than it ought to be.”

“How is that hot?” he asks, still sounding mortified with his hands returning to cover his face.

“You were so into blowing me that you came; that’s hot,” I declare, and I mean it. “Take these off anyway.”

“Ugh, no. What’s the point?” He’s laughing now, at least.

“We’re young, and I can think of some creative ways to get you hard again so I get my turn,” I say, grinning. He shakes his head despairingly, but he takes his shorts off before blanketing my body with his and burying his face into my neck.

“I’m embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. Not with me; you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Sometimes, during sex, funny things happen, and if we can’t laugh, then we probably shouldn’t be doing it,” I say, stroking a hand down his back.

And because it’s there, and I can, I pinch his bum cheek. I can’t help but laugh as he lets out a tiny squark of indignation.

Something about Cee makes me want to wrap him up like a burrito, hide him away in my room so nobody can go near him and keep him all to myself forever. I wonder briefly if this is what love feels like? Fortunately, I still have just enough good sense to keep the thought to myself.

I’m pretty sure saying 'I love you' right after someone gives you a blow job is a big faux pas.

Six

December 2017 - Five Years Ago

Connor Kelly

Tonight is the night, and it’s going to be romantic as fuck.

Well, I hope it will be. Since October, we changed our meeting spot to this abandoned barn so we don’t freeze our bollocks off. There are also some stacks of hay in here that are much more comfortable than the frozen ground outside.

The hinges on the barn door creak loudly as Fee’s large, brown furry head nudges it open. His eyes dart around the room, immediately seeking me out, and my stomach flutters. Fee's wolf form is slightly smaller than mine, but his brown fur is long and puffs out, making him appear bigger. My gaze is locked in place as I watch his fur and bulky frame shrink away, leaving him standing before me, naked and smiling.

“You brought things,” he says right away. It's a particularly bitter winter, so he quickly puts on some joggers.

“I just thought maybe a gas lamp and some blankets would make it less resembling of the set of a horror film,” I reply, more defensively than is warranted.

“You’re cute.” He grins and walks towards me, planting a kiss on my lips. “What else have you got in that little backpack of yours?” he asks teasingly.

“Erm, like, stuff, you know, just in case, stuff.” He arches an eyebrow at me questioningly.

“Ahh, just in case stuff, that very specific kind of stuff, I know exactly what you mean.”

I can feel my face heating, and his eyes light up the second he notices. Damn my face for always giving me away.

“You’re blushing. I was only messing around, but now your face is that colour; I’m going to need you to show me what’s in the bag.” I can’t help the scowl on my face; this was meant to be romantic, and he’s ruining it.

“If you’re gonna be a prick about it, I can guarantee you won’t need anything I have in this bag,” I snap. He furrows his brow like he does whenever he tries to decipher one of my outbursts. I try desperately to bury all my mushy feelings that keep threatening to spill out.

“I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to poke the bear. I was just curious.” He at least has the decency to sound contrite.

“I’m not a bear; I’m a fuckin’ wolf,” I mutter under my breath.

“The cutest fucking wolf I’ve ever seen.” He pushes me back down onto the blanket, settling between my legs and kisses me leisurely, as though we have all the time in the world.

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